


Play With You

by SuburbanWarrior



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1969 in America, Altamont AU, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanWarrior/pseuds/SuburbanWarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is the front man of a punk band. Harry is a desperate, fifteen-year-old fan. The meet in the aftermath of the 1969 Altamont Free Concert.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So what’s the real you then?” Louis questions as he floats farther into the water. “Tell me all about Harold Styles.”</p>
<p>“Well,” he replies. “Harry Styles is 15 years old, lives your typical suburban life, likes weed and lava lamps, wanked off everyday since he was 12 to pictures of Louis Tomlinson.” Harry smirks. “That’s about it.”</p>
<p>“That’s it?” Louis says, floating over to the steps where Harry had been sitting. “Just some high, sex-starved, still-in-the-closet virgin?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s it. The only thing I’m unhappy about is the virgin part.”</p>
<p>“Is that so?” </p>
<p>“I’ve been waiting for a certain someone to pop my cherry, catch my drift?”</p>
<p>Louis pulls Harry closer to him, chest to chest. He can feel the hard outline of Harry’s cock against his thigh. Not that’s he comparing- but he thinks that Harry is pretty fucking built for a 15-year-old.</p>
<p>“You think you’re such a foxy mama,” Louis whispers in his ear. “You think you can just come up here, jonesin' for a fucking and expect me to give it you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tomlinbum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlinbum/gifts).



December 1969  
Altamont, California.

“It’s at the speedway. And it’s free. And most importantly it’s The Rouge! Come on Liam, please. You know it will be groovy.”

“I don’t know Haz,” Liam says. “This honestly doesn’t sound like a very good idea. It’s supposed to be for adults only.”

“So,” Harry shrugs. “Weed’s supposed to be for adults only, and we’re smoking it right now.” He turns and blows a smoke ring into Liam’s face, as to emphasize his point. 

“Yeah, but, like,” Liam paused, grabbing the blunt from Harry’s hand. “Like weed is natural and makes me feel really good.”

“Music makes me feel really good too.”

“Look at the sky Haz,” Liam says, gesturing upwards above the rickety wooden porch the pair are perched on. “It looks like a lava lamp. It can be anything it wants to be, groovy colors mixing together to make these intricate patterns, like, it’s sick. It’s pink and blue and totally fucking California. That is fucking important. Not The Rouge.”

“Liam you are so fucking stoned,” Harry giggles. “You’re missing the point here. It’s going to be so good! People are saying it’s going to be ‘the Woodstock of the West!’ it’s historical! It’s educational. We can be a part of history. It’s free and it’s protesting against the war. You hate the war. You want your brother to come home. It’s supporting the cause!”

“And The Rouge is going to be there.”

“Well yeah,” Harry shrugs sheepishly. “That’s always a great reason to go.”

Liam sighs. “You’re obsessed with them. I’m kind of sick of hearing about them, you know. You talk about the singer, what’s his name, Lewis or something all the time. I’ve been subjected to way too many wank fantasies. This will just add fuel to the fire.”

“Firstly,” Harry raises his pointer finger. “His name is Louis. It’s French. And secondly, that’s exactly the point. This is my chance to make my dreams a reality. I could fuck Louis Tomlinson—no I will fuck Louis Tomlinson. And you have to come to the concert with me to be my wingman.”

“No!” Liam gasps out. “Harry that’s ridiculous. He’s twice your age. Please just let it go already!”

“Liam, that’s not fair. Louis Tomlinson is my soul mate.”

“No he’s not! He’s just some punk loser that trips on acid and pretends that you can solve everything with love. News flash! You can’t! If you could do you think my brother would be over in fucking Vietnam right now, probably one step away from getting blown up? NO! Do you think he’s over there so you can fucking get fucked in the ass instead of settling down with some nice chick and starting a family. No one is going to like you if you’ve fucked a boy. You’re blowing you’re chance at the American Dream.”

Harry looked appalled. “Liam that’s not my version of the American Dream.”

“That’s the only version of the American Dream and you’re fucking screwing it up.”

“Liam look I’m sorry that your brother got drafted but how is me pretending to like women going to help anything?”

Liam stepped backwards, putting more space between Harry and himself. “It’s going to hurt like hell—dicks are not supposed to go in assholes, mate.”

“Whatever,” Harry sighs. “I’ll go by myself. I’ll talk to you later.”

With that, he walks off the porch and into the soft California night. 

~~  
At a time of such turmoil in the country, it seemed perfect to have a repeat of Woodstock- the three days of peace, love and rock and roll could easily be re-created, Louis thought. After constant criticism that their North American tour tickets had been “too expensive” (he’d rolled his eyes at that) Louis had decided to hold a free concert to celebrate the ending of The Rouge’s tour.

“You know Woodstock was like, legit planned, man,” his drummer, Zayn says, pulling the blunt from between his lips. “Like dudes worked hard to get that shit done.”

“I am working hard,” replies Louis. “I just don’t need everyone and anyone getting in a an uproar. This is supposed to be about like, love, dude.”

“Whatever,” Zayn scoffs. “We’re gonna need security. The fuzz or summit. The stage is at the bottom of a fucking pit. It’s a speedway, not a concert hall.”

“It’s big,” Louis argues, “and we need big. Who cares if the stage is at the bottom? Plus, I’m on top of everything. I figured out that security shit. I didn’t want the man interfering with my life, so   
I got the Hells Angels to be security. They’re some biker gang, run by some Irish dude, Niall or summit. The best part is, they only wanted five hundred dollars of free beer as a gratuity.”

“Whatever,” Zayn says, closing his eyes. “As long as you have it worked out.”

“I do, I promise. The Grateful Dead and Crosby are going to open, as of right now.”

“Siiiick,” Zayn drawls. “Their bassist is super, hot. Dude likes it up the ass too, from what I’ve heard. I can get it in.”

“Good for you, now help me figure out what the fuck we’re going to play.”  
\--  
When Harry arrives at the speedways, it’s already packed with people. People were packed in so tightly that no air could move between them. But, despite what must have been an uncomfortably close setting, everyone was smiling and laughing, content on being crowded together.   
Harry pushes through the thick crowd, walking downhill in an attempt to get as close to that stage as possible. Ugh, he thinks. Why does this stage have to be at the bottom of a fucking pit? Fucking festivals are supposed to be about open space and shit. 

Harry settles in a spot he deems close enough to the stage—to Louis—but the close proximity to billions of hippies and sex and smoke must have been apparent on his face because the man next to him turns and says, “The closer you are, the easier it is to share the love, yeah? Like the energy just flows man.”

“Groovy,” Harry replies. 

“Little one you seemed stressed out, dude,” he pets at Harry’s hair, matting down the wild curls, fixing the flower crown that adorned Harry’s head. “Just chill, it’s all groovy, you know?”

“I’m just nervous, this is my first time, ya dig?”

The man managed to contort his spindly body around three people to sit on the ground. His smile grew as he patted his lap. “Plop down on Uncle Nick’s lap, little bird. It’s groovy. Tell me   
what’s wrong.”

“It’s my first time,” Harry sighs, plopping down on the mans lap. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Here’s the skinny, little one. Man, festivals are the best,” Nick replies, snapping his fingeres. “They’re psychedelic! I’m glad you get to experience one, better than an acid trip in my opinion. Less chance of it going bad, ya feel?”

“I dig,” says Harry. “Also I plan to be fucked by Louis Tomlinson tonight, and I haven’t ever done that either. You know it’s supposed to hurt and whatever but I need it.”

Nick throws back his head, chuckling loud. “Little bird, it doesn’t hurt at all. It’s the best feeling in the entire world. I’m more of a top man myself, but you’ve got the cutest little ass,” He reaches down to grope Harry. “Louis is gonna love you. That’s what all this about right, making love?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies. He rings his hands together. It’s nerve-wracking, in the span of one night, he plans to meet and seduce the hottest man on the planet. 

“How’d you know you’re gonna make love with Louis anyway?” Nick inquires. “You friends with him or something? Has he told you how he wants to pop your cherry?”

“No,” Harry shrugs. “I’m going to seduce him.”

“Rawr, tiger,” Nick paws at Harry playfully. “I should be calling you little minx, not little bird. Now just chill out, the dead are coming on now and I want to hear them. Don’t worry about anything. Lose yourself in the music and nothing bad can happen.”  
\--   
The minute that The Rouge stepped on stage, Harry practically catapults out of Nick’s arms and on to the stage.

“Relax, tiger,” Nick whispers in his ear. “You’ll get your chance soon enough. Tommo always signs autographs after a performance. Don’t get all excited and go up to him sporting a boner like some kind of stalker perv.”

Harry squirms out of Nicks arms in a futile attempt to get closer to the stage. He could barley hear the opening notes of The Rouges most famous song, “cold stone” due to the exorbitant amount of people surrounding him. 

As the set dragged on (it had been about six songs, but to Harry it had been about one second) the crowd around Harry became more drunken and restless. Somewhere in the middle of “midnight tune” a bottle of rum and some ecstasy had been pushed into Harry’s hands. Nick had promptly snatched them away, downing the pills and the entire bottle in one gulp. 

One couple in front of him had taken to having sex, basking in the glow of the hungry eyes that surrounded them. 

Louis looks down from the stage and coos, “this is all about the love. Just let go.”

But the crowd gets significantly rowdier as the night goes on. The smoke hangs thick in the air over Harry’s, going straight to his head. The crowed pushed closer and closer to the stage, everyone desperate to get closer to Louis. He had a certain magnetism about him, a cool aura that pulled you in and didn’t let go. Even when Harry felt Nick’s erection poking him in the back, he was drawn towards Louis, focusing all his attention on the tattooed boy, commanding the stage like a rock-and-roll god.   
“Just be cool down in the front there, don’t push around.” Louis pleaded with the crowd. “Be cool cats, you know. Just enjoy the music.”

Louis started up the song again, determined to finish the set, as to not cause more of an upright. He was in the middle of their newest song, Fried Elephant when-

BOOM!

The shot was so loud, that Harry was shaken to his core. He could see Louis visibly recoil on stage. He grabbed onto Liam’s hand as the crowd in front of them pushed every which way. 

“Fuck you!” 

“What the fuck, man!”

Someone stepped between him and Nick, pushing him forward towards the stage. He heard someone scream “the bastard has a knife,” and before he knew what he was doing, he was running, parallel to the stage, as fast as he could go. He couldn’t be bothered with figuring out his ultimate destination, he just wanted to put as much space between whichever crazy LSD induced hippie had a knife. He rounded the corner and saw the low hanging pipe too late. 

His world went black  
~~  
“Who are you?” A heavily accented voice pulled Harry from his daze. “Why the fuck did you think it was okay to pass out in the middle of our emergency exit route?”

“What?” Harry asked, blinking and looking around. His head hurt like hell. “Where am I?”

“About eighty thousand feet over Iowa at the moment, I think.” The voice answered. We couldn’t exactly leave you there, you were in the middle of our fucking helipad.”

It was in that moment that Harry Styles placed the voice. The raspy melody that could only belong to one person. Louis Tomlinson.   
Harry passes out again.  
~~  
“Can you stop passing out?” Louis asks, once again pulling Harry from his daze. “It’s quite frightening. I promise we won’t hurt you. A full scale riot broke out down there, I promise you’re safer up here.”

Harry was practically swooning. Louis was a prince charming, wonderful and sweet behind his heavily tattooed punk exterior. Harry knew they were destined to be.   
He pats himself on the back for being able to predict Louis’ wonderful sense of character. “Thanks for saving me,” he mutters, checks pinking as he struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. 

“It was my pleasure,” Louis replies. “The only downside is, you look like you’d probably have school tomorrow and we are currently on route to god knows where. I’d apologize it, but if you hadn’t passed out on our helipad…”

“I don’t have school tomorrow.”

“You’ve graduated?”

“Well-um- no. I’m fifteen. But, um, tomorrow’s Saturday. So, there’s, like, no school.”

A little twinkle of a laugh escaped from Louis’ mouth. He stretched his arm around Harry, pulling the boy closer to him. “What’s your name, stranger who passed out on our helipad?”

“Harry Styles.”

“Well, Harry Styles, I’m Louis Tomlinson. You’ll be stuck with me for the next few days before we return to LA. Sleep now, little one. You’ve had quite a night.”  
And that’s how, just days before his sixteenth birthday, Harry Styles fell asleep tucked under the arm of world famous punk rocker, Louis Tomlinson.  
\--  
“Harry, Harry wake up,” Louis nudges Harry’s shoulder to rouse him from his sleep. “You need to wake up now!”

“Fgh,” Harry mumbles. “Whasit?”

“We’re making an emergency landing in West Dakota because it’s like a fucking hail storm outside.”

“West Dakota?” Harry questiones.

“Yeah why, know someone there?”

“There is no such thing as West Dakota?”

“Are you asking me or telling me.”

“Telling you!”

“I can’t keep track of these fucking American states. Everything has to be new this, west that. How do I know which is which?”

“I’m pretty sure that there’s only a North and South Dakota.”

“We’re landing at the one that is closer to New York.”

“Um,” Harry says. “Well, they’re both kind of the same distance to New York because they are on top of one another?”

“On top of one another? So there’s only one Dakota?”

“No, um- never mind. It’s not a big deal. When are we landing?”

“In like a minute,” Louis replies. “That good?”

“Groovy,” replies Harry, holding up a peace sign. “Land away.”  
\--  
“We radioed the ground before we landed, they should have a car waiting for us,” Louis mutters, as he steps out of the chopper.

“It’s on the way,” their head of security, Frank, says. “I talked to them minutes before we touched down, they’ll be here shortly.”

“Good because I’m fucking exhausted,” Zayn says. “I didn’t even get to fuck that Irish ass like I was planning too. Tonight fucking sucks.”

“That’s your own fault, mate,” Louis says. “You were the one that acted like a little bitch and ran away at the first sign of danger.”

“I was following you,” Zayn cries, exasperated. “It was your whole idea to have that fucking escape route and now I’m horny without an ass to fuck and I’m blaming you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank says. “The cars here now, try to act like civilized gentleman for once in your life, please.”

Louis winks. “Will do, Frank-o. Wouldn’t want to scare Harry away with all our dirty talk.” He puts an arm around Harry’s shoulder, “come on kid, hop in, we’ve got places to go, people to see.”

“But no one to fuck,” Zayn mutters. “And it sucks.”  
\--

When they arrived at the hotel—which to Harry looked terrifyingly similar to the Bates Motel (or maybe he was just paranoid)—Louis patted his arse and motioned him in the direction of two worn armchairs, just under the dusty, cracked neon, “groovy” sign that hung in the lobby of the motel. “Let the big boys do the talking,” he says, pushing Harry in the directions of the chairs. 

“Go be a good boy and wait for us to get the room keys.”

As soon as Harry was out of earshot, Louis turns to Zayn with a frown. 

“Zayn, give me a list of reasons why I shouldn’t go across the lobby of this shitty motel and fuck Harry into oblivion?”

“Because he’s underage and probably a virgin.” 

“But he’s so pretty!”

Zayn’s face was illuminated under the flickering lamp of the motel lobby. “Then go fuck him already and make him sign a secrecy clause so he doesn’t rat you out to the rags.”

“Everyone in the world already knows I’m gay, like, what the fuck do you think he’s going to do.”

“Everyone already knows you fuck legal ass, not a fucking underage twink.”

“Whatever, have your own room. I’ll share with our guest.”

Louis walks over to where Harry is perched on the floral armchair, worn down with age. He twisted his curls around his finger and was worrying his plump lip between his teeth. Louis wanted to wreck him. 

“Bad news I’m afraid,” Louis spoke, startling Harry out of his daydream. 

“What, do they not have a vacancy? Are we going to sleep in the car?”

“No,” Louis replies, smiling. “But, we’ll have to share a room. And a bed. This isn’t the safest of areas, so it’s imperative you stay in the room with me all night.” 

Harry smiles, internally jumping for joy due to his good luck. Outwardly he just shrugs his shoulders and jams his hands in his pockets. “Rock on, dude. Let’s hit the hay.”

Louis just smiles at Harry’s back as the two head towards to stairs. 

This was going to be fun.  
\--

“It’s only one in the morning, kid, you can’t go to sleep yet,” Louis says as Harry changes into his pajamas and climbs into bed. “The night is young. We have things to do, people to see.”

“I thought you said that this place was dangerous,” Harry mumbles, ducking his head under the covers. “Can’t we just go to bed? I’ll sleep on the floor if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Christ no, you don’t have to sleep on the floor, it’s fine.”

“Oh,” says Harry. “Okay.”

“I have a great idea,” Louis declares. “Let’s go swimming. This crappy motel is bound to have an equally crappy pool.”

“But I don’t have a swim suit?” 

“And?” Louis raises an eyebrow. “The problem with that is?”

“I don’t have extra clothes either,” Harry mumbles. “I don’t want to get these wet.”

“Ah, how modest you are,” Louis laughs. “It’s like- have you ever heard of skinny dipping?” 

Harry blushes harder. “Yes.”

“That’s what we’re going to do. If it makes it easier for you, pretend you lost an intense game of strip poker. Now, get over yourself and come on. Hurry up!”

“Groovy,” Harry mumbles pulling off his shorts. “This is going to be totally rad.”

“Exactly,” Louis says. “The whole concert was about the love. It kind of went to shit. Let’s get that attitude back now. Live in the moment young Harold.”

“Harry,” he says. “My name is Harry.”

“Okay, whatever you says,” smirks Louis. “Harold.”   
\--

The night was cool around them as they made the trek to the outdoor pool, lit up only by the creaking neon vacancy sign. Louis strips off his underpants and dives in without hesitation. “Come on kid, jump in.”

“I’m not a kid,” Harry protests. “I can do everything an adult can do.” He gives Louis a pointed look that goes straight to his groin. “People always assume I’m a baby-faced kid, they never take the time to learn about the real me.”

“So what’s the real you then?” Louis questions as he floats farther into the water. “Tell me all about Harold Styles.”

“Well,” he replies. “Harry Styles is 15 years old, lives your typical suburban life, likes weed and lava lamps, wanked off everyday since he was 12 to pictures of Louis Tomlinson.” Harry smirks. “That’s about it.”

“That’s it?” Louis says, floating over to the steps where Harry had been sitting. “Just some high, sex-starved, still-in-the-closet virgin?”

“Yeah, that’s it. The only thing I’m unhappy about is the virgin part.”

“Is that so?” 

“I’ve been waiting for a certain someone to pop my cherry, catch my drift?”

Louis pulls Harry closer to him, chest to chest. He can feel the hard outline of Harry’s cock against his thigh. Not that’s he comparing- but he thinks that Harry is pretty fucking built for a 15-year-old.

“You think you’re such a foxy mama,” Louis whispers in his ear. “You think you can just come up here, jonesin' for a fucking and expect me to give it you?”

“Yeah,” Harry pants. “Yeah I did, I- I tried to be primo- cool, you know so you’d like me.”

“Wanted me to like you, hmm? Wanted me to lick you so much that I’d eat your pussy. Want me to throw you over the edge of the pool and eat you out right here?”

“Please,” gasps Harry, water sloshing tight between his body and Louis’. “Please, please, oh, please.”

Louis grins wickedly. “You’re such a tart. Do you even know what you’re begging for?”

Harry grunts. “I’m not that innocent you know. I want your cock up my ass, like, yesterday.” 

“I’ll consider it,” Louis says. “Do you know the sodomy laws in this state?”

“Fuck the sodomy laws,” Harry screetches. “I fucking jacked off to that picture of you half-naked at the stonewall riots for fucking weeks, I know you can give two fucks about the sodomy laws.”

“Harold,” Louis cocks an eyebrow. “You know I don’t do anything illegal.”

“So fucking do me already.”

Louis closed the remaining space between them quickly and captured Harry’s lips with his own. 

“I want to fuck in you in your little flower crown. Take you over the edge over and over again. I’ll be the best fuck of your life.”

“Jesus Christ, Louis, you can’t just say shit like that.”

“I don’t intend to just say it, I intend to act on it as well.”

He pushes Harry up and out of the pool. “Pool sex is really fucking overrated,” he says. “Plus, I’m sure you’d rather lose your v-card in a more…comfortable environment. And I’m all for exhibitionist shit, but I’m going to have you moaning so loud you’ll wake the whole fucking motel up.” 

“Holy shit,” Harry breathes. “Please, please- I-I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

Louis scoops Harry up bridal style, cradling him in his arms as he streaks through the lobby and up the stairs. 

“Baby,” he whispers, cradling Harry’s cheek. “I’m going to blow your mind.”

Harry throws his head back and whines, thrashing in Louis arms. He’s so hard now, cock thick and dripping and practically purple at the tip. Louis lays him on the bed gently, and kisses his forehead soothingly. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve got you. Relax.”

They’ve barely even started but Harry’s already a mess. His curls are matted to his forehead and his flower crown is crushed. He smells like clean sweat and boy and Louis just wants to devour him. 

He kisses down Harry’s jaw and nips at his Adam’s apple. He smoothes over his chest and tweaks at his nipple. Harry practically convulses, arches off the bed as a gutted scream leaves his lips. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” He moans, wanton and open- practically broke already. Louis smiles.

“Baby, so responsive for me,” he says, practically in awe. “So, so good for me, sweetheart.”

He licks down his chest, purposely avoiding his dick. He nips at the juncture where his thigh meets his hip, and taps twice on the blooming bruise he left. 

“Leg’s up please,” he requests. 

And Harry, fuck, god bless him, throws both of his legs over Louis’ shoulders within seconds. Here, Louis thought he was fucking a virgin, but apparently he’s about to have sex with a   
professional contortionist. He says as much. Harry just smirks.

“The bathtub- god,- the bathtub is really small and its- the-the only place I can get enough fucking privacy in my house to do this.”

“Aw,” coo’s Louis. “You poor little repressed princess. Just needed a big, bad rockstar to wreck your pussy, didn’t you?”

“Fuck yes,” gasps Harry, hips spazing uncontroalibly off the bed, begging for friction that Louis isn’t giving yet. 

“Tell me what you think about,” says Louis slowly. “Tell me what you think about when you’ve got four fingers deep inside yourself in your fucking bathtub and you’re right about to come.”

“Ngh,” Harry mumbles nonsensically. 

“Tell me,” Louis insists. “Tell me and I’ll eat you out, get you nice and loose and wet, ready for my cock.”

“Ugh,” Harry flings his head back as Louis licks a stripe up his leaking cock. “You,” he practically screams. “Always you, I just wanted them to be your fingers, to see your fucking tattooed   
perfect chest above me as you fucked in and out of me. Just wanted to come on your cock- you, Louis. What don’t you get, it’s always been you.”

“Fuckin’ a,” says Louis. 

“Please,” gasps Harry, struggling against Louis’ grip on his hips. 

“Well,” Louis says, smirking down at Harry. “I did promise you an ass eating for spilling your deep, dark, wank fantasy’s.”

With that, he flips Harry over and dives in deep, nibbling at Harry’s perineum as he holds him open with both hands. He tongues around the tight furl of muscle- just licking, never applying   
pressure. Harry was going crazy above him, hands fisted in sheets, sweat glistening on his chest, moans falling from his lips. 

Louis had known him for less than 24 hours and the only thing he wanted to hear until he died was Harry’s little “ah” noises. He’d played with some of the greatest musicians in the world, but   
Harry- Harry’s sounds were the only most beautiful thing that Louis had ever heard. 

“Sound so hot dear,” Louis says, words vibrating over Harry’s hole. “Got me so fucking hard, babe. Gonna fuck you so good.” With that, he pushes his tongue into Harry’s hole, licking inside,   
nibbling at his rim. 

Harry goes taunt, back arching, muscles trembling. He moans, high and sweet, and comes all over his tummy.

“S-s-orry,” he stutters out, trembling. 

Louis just chuckles and licks long and firm down the crack of Harry’s arse, ending at the sensitive joint between his arse and his thighs. 

"Gonna get you all ready and open for my cock, darling," he whispers against the sensitive flesh of Harry's inner thighs. 

With that he licked back up into Harry, tounge finally splitting him open, spit dripping around his hole. His tounge worked in and out of his hole. 

Harry gasped when Louis added a finger alongside his tounge, stretching him farther than his own fingers could. 

Louis slipped his tounge out and settled ontop of Harry, thrusting two fingers in and out of his hole. 

"So tight for me, baby. You're fantastic. I'm gonna stretch you out so well," he muttered. He nibbled on Harry's earlobe before moving down to suck at his sweet spot, a distraction as he added another finger. 

Harry moans and wiggled under him, hips rabbiting like he couldn't stop himself. "Please Louis, I'm ready now, please, please, just get the fuck inside me already. Please!"

With that, Louis pulled out his fingers, the squish of the spit and lube making an obscene sound in the otherwise quiet room. 

"Gonna fuck you so good baby," he whispers. "You have no idea."

He rolled off of Harry and slicked himself up, giving himself a few tugs to prepare himself for the tight heat he was about to enter. 

"Roll over for me, darling," he says. "I want to see your face while I fuck you."

Harry roles over and Louis practically gasps, he looked so wrecked already, eyes flushed and shinning, a pretty pink blush spread down his chest, coloring him a delicious rose color.

"Oh," Louis breaths, practically in awe. "Baby, you look so wonderful, so so pretty. You're breaking down so perfectly for me baby, best first time fuck I will ever have."

"Please," Harry moans, openly and brokenly. "I just want you inside me."

With that, Louis lines up, cock just teasing Harry's hole. He pushes in, not prepared for the incredible pressure that surrounds him. Even after loosening him up on his tounge and his fingers, Harry was still so tight. Louis tells him and Harry moans brokenly, whimpering as Louis begins to fuck him truly. Hips snapping against Harry's arse. "Gonna open you up even more on my cock baby," he growls, snapping his hips even faster. 

The first time he hits Harry's spot, Harry cries out louder than ever before and practically melts into the bed, mumbling nonsensically. Louis can make out little pleas of "faster" and "harder", so he grants Harry's request, hips moving faster than ever before. His balls smack against Harry's arse, as Louis chases both their orgasms. He wants Harry to come first, be completely exhausted and over-stimulated when Louis comes inside of him. 

With a change of angle and a particularly hard snap of his hips, Harry comes with a cry and a chocked off moan. He's fisting his hands in the sheets as Louis fucks him through him, trying hard not to come as Harry clenches around him like a vice.

Coming down, Harry flops exhausted onto the bed, eyes opening and closing sporadically as Louis chases his own orgasm inside of him. 

“Louis please,” he mumbles. “Please come inside of me.”

“Fuck, shit,” gasps Louis. “Yeah, baby, I’ll give you what you want.” With one last particularly hard thrust, Louis ends balls deep in Harry, his hips flush against Harry’s arse as he spills inside the   
boy. 

“Wow,” he says, practically in awe as he leans down to kiss Harry. “That was fantastic.”

“Best,” agrees the boy, between breathless kisses. “Never want to leave you. Want to do that again and again.”

Louis nips at his lips and grins. “Fifteen isn’t too young to drop out of school and join a rock and roll band, is it? We could use another singer, or if you suck you could be a proper groupie.”   
Harry just smiles  
\--

September 1970  
1 year later  
Portland, Oregon 

“Harry we have to play it,” sighs Louis. “Vortex I is like, sponsored by the state and the Portland counterculture. It’s being held in order to demonstrate the positive side of the anti-War Movement and to prevent violent protests during a planned Richard Nixon appearance in the state.”

“Do you remember what happened last time The Rouge played a giant protest music festival?” Harry questions.

“Yeah,” Louis smirks. “I met you… you scared some other underage twink is going to seduce me and I’ll leave you?”

“Someone got killed Louis!”

“I won’t leave you darling, don’t worry.” He looks over at Harry. “Even if you are less of a twink and more of a tattooed man right now.”

“Louis,” Harry growls, “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he replies. “It’s being sponsored by the state. It is the only state-sponsored rock festival in history. We have to be a part of it.”

“Fine, whatever,” Harry grumbles. “I just want actually security and not Hells Angels.”

“Deal,” smirks Louis, “and after we can role play that I’ve saved you from yet another disaster,” he grabs Harry by the belt buckle and pulls him in. “I know how that gets you all hot and bothered.” 

Harry’s stuck somewhere between and eye-roll and turned-on moan when Zayn pushes open the van door. “We’re set to be on stage in five, you all dig?”

Louis smiles innocently up at Zayn. “We dig, Harry hear is just a little nervous about his first performance.”

“Aw, man,” Zayn slaps Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t be nervous man, this is about the love. Plus, you’ve been practicing for weeks now, it’s going to be sick. A rock-and-roll band with two   
frontman? It’s historic, it’s fantastic. Just please don’t end up having sex on stage okay? That is not the kind of love we are trying to make.”

“We will save that kind of love making for after the performance,” Louis nods seriously. He turns to Harry. “Babe, don’t worry, you are going to be fantastic. Everyone loves my little boy toy.”

He grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him closer to the stage. He hears Zayn tap out the first few notes of their newest hit, “Sympathy for the Devil.”

He hears the crowd roar and leans in just as they step on stage. The crowd roars and Louis pulls Harry in for a kiss. As they break apart, he whispers, “They all love you. But only I get to play with you.”   
\--


End file.
